What About Love
by TStabler
Summary: Valentine's Day is often overlooked or ignored; people are too busy, or wrapped up in their everyday lives, to celebrate. However, the day can also be filled with surprises and romance, powerful passion, and of course, an incredible amount of love. In this short one-shot series, our favorite detectives find the absolute joy in Valentine's Day, even in the little things. EO
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: With Valentine's Day approaching, I felt the need to distract myself from things going on in my life by writing happy, fluffy EO one-shots! **

_**What about love? I only want to share it with you - Heart**_

**DISCLAIMER: Characters and background information are the sole property of DICK WOLF. The content of this story is the sole property of Tstabler©**

"Why are you staring at me?" Olivia asks the question, but she knows the answer before he can speak.

Elliot raises an eyebrow and continues staring from his side of their joined desks. "Why do you think?" he quips, and he makes a face as she dips another hot Cheeto into a tub of cream cheese.

She pops the odd snack into her mouth and says, "It has nothing to do with what I'm eating, you've been staring at me all fucking day, for the past week." She scoops up some more cream cheese on another hot Cheeto, crunches down on it, and says, "It's fucking annoying."

He chuckles and leans a little closer to her. "If you weren't so damn beautiful, I wouldn't be staring at you all the time," he winks and pauses, then chokes slightly. "But this time, it really is because...what the hell are you eating?"

"Don't knock it till you try it," she says, holding out a cream cheese covered Cheeto to him. She watches him grimace and shake his head. "Suit yourself," she shrugs, and she tosses it into her mouth.

He watches with concerned eyes as she chews, and something hits him. He suddenly drops his eyes to his desk calendar, he mumbles a vulgar curse at himself for not changing the page in the last three months. He rips off the three bygone pages, then mutters something to himself. "Liv?"

She hums, chewing on another spicy, cheesy treat. She looks at him, licking her lips for more than one reason. Her eyes darken and she tilts her head. "What?"

He smirks, he chuckles, and he crumples the three torn calendar pages into a large ball. "Shit," he says with a bright smile, and he tosses the rumpled paper like a basketball, sinking a free-throw into the trash bin. "There something you need to tell me?"

"Other than that shirt makes your eyes look bluer than usual?" she queries, her gaze firm on his face. "No, why?"

He chuckles again. "It's the fourteenth," he tells her. "February fourteenth."

"Shit!" Her eyes pop and she slaps her tub of cream cheese onto her desk.

He nods, eager and excited, and he opens his mouth to tell her something else, but her words cut him off.

"Valentine's Day," she spits out harshly. "We're gonna be here for God knows how long, and I know you have plans, this is just…"

"Relax," he laughs, and he reaches across the table to grab her half-empty tub of cream cheese. "I, uh, I didn't realize it was Valentine's Day. I don't have plans." He wiggles the cheese and says, "This crap...you've been putting cream cheese and hot peppers on everything you've been eating...for weeks."

"And?" she narrows her eyes. "What does that have to do with…"

"And you haven't had a headache, cramps, or crazy mood swings in...about as long," he shuffles around their cluttered desks and pulls a pack of Wet Wipes out of a pile of things. He wriggles one out of the pack and takes her left hand in his, cleaning the spicy Cheetos dust off of her fingers. "Are you understanding...what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, you pay too much fucking attention to me," she barks, and then, as he rubs her fingers and palm a bit harder, she moans, and she realizes. "No," she almost whispers.

He laughs and he can't keep the tears from springing to his eyes. "Yeah," he says much more softly than he'd intended. "I think so, yeah." He sniffles, his emotions getting the best of him. "You hate Cheetos."

She blinks and she furrows her brow and she looks down at the orange-stained fingertips he's holding in his hand. "Oh, my God," she breathes, and she blinks again, hot tears slowly drip out of the corners of her eyes. "I...I can't be…"

"Uh, you know damn well you could be," he interrupts with a smug look on his face, almost proud eyes and a wicked smirk. "I'm pretty sure you know how it works, and we aren't exactly campaigning to be the next faces of Trojan." He quirks his lips and angles his head.

She laughs, then, and her heart begins to race. "What time is it?" she checks her watch. "I'll be right back. Um...twenty minutes." She rises from her chair and grabs her jacket, and bolts through the door. A moment later she runs back, heads right for him, cups his face tightly and kisses him deeply and soundly.

He blinks dumbly as he watches her leave again, and he's pretty sure she's taken his common sense with her.

Only slightly less than twenty minutes later, she walks back into the room. She runs her eyes over the room, scanning every corner. The colors seem brighter, even if they are only shades of grey. She laughs at the way Fin and Munch are fighting over a single red marker. She eyes two people in the back whose names she doesn't really know. "Um," she speaks, and when Fin looks her way, she smiles at him. "Where's Elliot?" She pulls her jacket down over her stomach and clears her throat.

"I'm right here." He's behind her, holding a single, yellow rose. He holds it out to her with an almost shy, adolescent smile on his face. "I, uh...I wanted to, um...Happy Valentine's Day." He scratches a spot behind his ear with one finger, his black suit rustling as he moves.

She takes the rose and smiles warmly. She steps closer to him, sniffing the flower lightly, and she forces herself to look at him, though she knows everyone including the two strange people in the back are watching her every move. "Happy Valentine's Day," she says, and she moves closer, her lips almost brush against hers as she whispers, "Daddy."

Cragen throws open his door and runs into the squadroom, responding to the whooping holler that Elliot had just let loose. He blinks in confusion, seeing Olivia wrapped in Elliot's arms as he spins her around. "What the hell is…" he stops when Elliot lets Olivia's feet fall gently to the floor and he gasps when he watches Elliot kiss Olivia sweetly, deeply, for a moment that seems too improper for this particular unit. "Explain?" his brow raises with his voice.

Elliot doesn't even look at his captain, he simply blinks once and presses his forehead to Olivia's. "Baby," he whispers, sniffling. "We're...we're having a baby." He pulls her to him again, kissing her with more fire than before, and he is fully aware that Cragen has more questions than he's prepared to answer.

Cragen moves toward them, his arms folded, and he licks his lips. "A baby," he says, "You two are having a baby? Together? Like he's the father, and you're the mother, and you…"

"We don't really need to hear about what they did," Fin cuts in, grinning.

Elliot laughs as he nods. "Yeah," he says, and he turns. "Cap, me and Liv...we've been together for…"

"Seven months, two weeks, three days," Cragen says flatly. "Officially. Unofficially….a hell of a lot longer than that." He doesn't even flinch at the astonished looks on their faces. "What are you gonna do about it?" He holds up a hand as Elliot's eyes narrow and his jaw drops. "Not...no, I mean, clearly you're both over the moon, but are you raising this kid...bouncing back and forth between…"

"Um," Olivia interrupts, ready to tell Cragen something he doesn't know. "I moved in with him when…"

"Kathy moved out," Cragen nods, realizing. "I thought that's what happened, I thought I noticed…" he trails off. He slowly smiles, and he points to their clasped hands. "She, uh, she should put the ring on her finger, now, ya think?" He raises his hand and tugs on the silver chain around Olivia's neck.

They share a surprised laugh, and Elliot makes quick work of unclasping her necklace and slipping the two stunning silver and diamond rings off of it. As he slides them onto her finger, he says, "Fuck," and he chuckles. "This is the best fucking Valentine's Day ever." He pulls her into his arms, and he isn't surprised at all to feel Cragen enveloping them both into a fatherly hug as well.

"Congratulations," Cragen says to the two detectives who've become his family. "But your ass is behind a desk, as of right now, Benson." He points a half-threatening finger at her. He walks back toward his office, the sound of his squad's relieved laughter and happy tears fading as he closes the door behind him. "Yeah," he sighs, sitting behind his desk. "Happy Valentine's Day."

**A/N: Next...things will be a bit more intimate. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sex and intimacy are vastly different, and the difference matters. **

_**What about love? Don't you want someone to care about you? - Heart**_

**DISCLAIMER: Characters and background information are the sole property of DICK WOLF. The content of this story is the sole property of Tstabler©**

It's not the way he's looking at her that makes her uncomfortable, it's what he's saying to her. The words leaving his lips, the way his gravelly voice seems to make the entire room rattle. "Are we done?" Her question comes out with disdain and she isn't sorry about it at all.

Ed Tucker sighs, realizing his lecture has fallen on deaf ears and she will make the same mistakes again without considering them mistakes at all. "Apparently, we are, Benson," he spits, but then he points a finger at her. "You'd better be damn sure that partner of yours is worth risking your badge for," he adds with as much threat as he can muster.

"He's worth a hell of a lot more than my badge," she snaps with a fire in her eyes that makes Tucker sit up straighter. She nods at him, turns on her heeled boots, and leaves the office, slamming the door behind her.

"What'd he say?" Elliot asks quickly, eyes wide, as he jumps to his feet and rushes in a limp over to her.

She shakes her head, looking away from Elliot and toward the wall, and she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip. "Same shit he always says," she tells him, "Excessive force, blah, blah, blah, risking everything for my partner is stupid, blah, blah, blah," she laughs dismissively and then looks at him. "He'll never say that to me again, by the way," she winks.

He narrows his eyes but he grins. "I'll bet," he says to her. "Did he give you…"

"Necessary shot," she interrupts, moving the tails of her blazer to the side to reveal her gun and badge at her hip, where they belong. "We can get out of here," she breathes. She starts to move, but Elliot grabs her hand and pulls her into him. She raises an eyebrow and asks him a silent question.

He swallows hard, licks his lips, and his face takes on an emotion he rarely lets the world know he's capable of feeling. He whispers, "I don't know what I would...I'm sorry you had to…" he sniffles and says, "Thank you," as his eyes sting and redden with the prohibited need to cry.

Something inside of her snaps like a dry twig. She's never seen him like this before, and he's certainly never held her hand for this long, this tightly, where other people could clearly see them. "What are you…" and then her words are swallowed by his slow, gentle yet eager kiss. She doesn't pull away, and she doesn't flinch, but it surprises her nonetheless. She feels his hands press against her cheeks, his thumbs brushing gingerly over her skin, and she inhales sharply. They've kissed a million times before, but this is different.

He eases backward and whispers, "I love you," and in an instant, he's pulling her through the crowded halls of One Police Plaza and toward the glass doors that will lead them onto an even more crowded street. He grips her hand even tighter, moves faster, and veers left down a street they never usually set foot on.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice bouncing as she runs in her boots to keep up with Elliot's stride.

He doesn't reply, he pulls her along faster and aims for a building that he'd never imagined needing to walk into at this time of day, if ever. He turns and leads her through the revolving doors while pulling his clip off of his belt. He holds up his badge knowing it will be enough to avoid answering questions, and he rushes with her up the steps.

She watches in stunned silence as he flashes his badge to the nearest cleaning lady. He whispers something she can't hear clearly, and her eyes widen when the maid immediately moves and unlocks the first available unoccupied room. "El?" she questions again, but again the question is ignored.

He turns, smiles at her, and he pulls her closer. He wraps her in his arms, kisses her with the same profound emotion as before, only this time it came with a long, soft moan. He keeps his eyes closed, his lips against hers, as his fingers pull and twist at the buttons of her shirt.

She shivers, the frigidity of the hotel room hitting her bare skin as it's exposed. She feels his palms smooth her shirt and blazer off of her body, she gasps slightly when it becomes clear he's aiming for her pants next. "What are you…" she starts, but his insistent kiss keeps the rest of the words from being born.

He slips her pants over her hips, hearing the thunk of her gun and badge as they hit the floor, and he chuckles as his fingertips toy with the elastic waist of her silk underwear. "You," he whispers, and he begins to roll the silk down, "You have no idea." He takes a breath and kneels as he lowers the fabric, his hands grazing her thighs, legs, calves, and he takes off her shoes and socks one by one before tugging her underwear off and tossing it behind him. He places soft kisses on every reachable inch of her skin as he ascends, working his own clothes off at the same time. Whenever he comes to a scar, he lingers, letting his tongue trace the outlines and jagged edges of each battle wound marring her otherwise flawless skin.

"El, what are you doing?" she whispers, her nails scraping along his scalp as she caresses him.

He looks into her eyes when he finally straightens, and he kicks off his left sock which leaves him fully naked. "I am in love with every single part of you...everything you are, everything you'll ever be…" he swallows and leans in, brushing his nose against hers, "I could have lost you, today," he says as though the words taste like battery acid.

She shakes her head as she feels him moving to unhook her bra. "I'm the one that…" her voice breaks. "I could have lost you," she breathes. "That's why I pulled the trigger. As soon as he lunged at you with that knife...I knew I should have aimed for his arm, but I…" and she loses volume. Her bra straps slip off of her shoulders, the garment falls to the floor.

He grazes her lips with the pad of his thumb and goads her backward. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress she stumbles onto the bed with a soft laugh. He grins and crawls on top of her, looming over her like a calm panther, gazing at her with adoration in his eyes and something unreadable on his face. Slowly, his hands move, caressing her arms, her elbows, her stomach. His index finger follows the definition lines of her muscles, connecting invisible dots.

The silence is stark, ragged breaths fill the noiseless air. Her body jerks as he touches the parts of her that are seldom noticed, like the undersides of her wrists and the soft v-cut of her hips, and as he grazes the soft skin at the juncture of her inner thighs, he stares down into her eyes, unblinking.

It's the most intimate moment that has ever passed between them.

"Liv," he whispers, "It's Valentine's Day." He blinks once. He bends his head and shifts his weight, taking aim and thrusting only the slightest bit, the tip of his dick pressing forward into her. "I love you."

Her eyes close, her head drops backward, and she exhales on a tremble as he fills her completely. "God, I love you, too," she tells him.

It wasn't the first time she's killed a man to save him, it won't be the last. It isn't the first case that's taken a near-fatal turn, and there will certainly be others. It's not the only time in his life he's been suspended for rushing to protect her, and he'll do it again the next time it's necessary. Their job is just a job, but it's one that brought them together, one that gifted them with the kind of love that only exists in Nicholas Sparks' novels and Spielberg movies, and Prime-Time Detective shows on network television, the kind of love that comes once in a lifetime and only if you're lucky.

He pulls out and presses his forehead to hers, thrusts back into her and sobs once. His emotions are finally bubbling to the surface and there's nothing else he can do to keep them at bay. His tears fall from open eyes as he kisses her and starts to pick up a deep and powerful pace.

As she clutches his shoulders and wraps her legs around his waist, fleeting thoughts patter through her mind like tap-dancing specks of fairy dust. Each one reminds her that this is and always has been more than just sex, from the first time they gave in to the carnal desire for each other to this emotional moment. She can't remember life before him and she can't imagine life after him, because she knows that there is no 'after him' at all. "I love you," she moans, and she means it with every single fiber of her being, every cell in her body. "Elliot, my God, I love you."

He kisses her again, nodding, moaning her name into her mouth, and he promises himself that once they get home, he will make it more impossible for her to walk away from him than it already is, because he can't live without her, either. If their actions speak louder than words ever could, then it's perfectly clear neither of them has any intention of living without the other at all. They'd give their lives for each other with no hesitation,

The only sounds between them are their quick panting breaths, wet smacking sounds from their kiss, and slapping skin. Translated, it's a promise. A pledge. The most intimate and emotional vow, and pure commitment to each other. It's different this time, as if this is the moment where what's between them surpasses a relationship and becomes something without a name.

He moves faster. Deeper. Harder.

Moans and grunts begin to filter through the room, cries of each other's name, murmurs of love and prayers to God, vulgar curses and guttural groans. Louder and harsher, reaching a crescendo just as he begins to move even faster, even deeper. He crashes his mouth over hers to catch her scream as she tightens and clamps, trapping him, keeping him from moving anymore.

She feels him tense as she convulses and she whimpers when he shudders and gives in. He fires like a hot cannon, shooting into her with the aim of a precision archer and even though he isn't really trying, he hits a bullseye. He knows it. He welcomes it.

She clings to him as she tries to slow what has become labored breathing, and she twitches with aftershocks, trembling in his arms.

He jerks and whispers, "God, I fucking love you," and he grabs her tightly and rolls them over. Panting, he brushes her hair back and laughs at the situation they've gotten themselves into. "Baby?"

She hums, resting her chin on his chest as she peers into his eyes.

He winks once. "Happy Valentine's Day."

**A/N: Next...cookies, chocolate, flowers, champagne...and an apology?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Love means never having to say you're sorry...most of the time.**

_**What about love? Don't let it slip away. - Heart**_

**DISCLAIMER: Characters and background information are the sole property of DICK WOLF. The content of this story is the sole property of Tstabler©**

She wakes to the sound of her alarm, like any normal day, but she knows today's different, and she's terrified of facing it. She groans as she throws the covers off and drags herself out of bed. Her hair is still wet from her midnight shower, so she runs a brush through it and sighs, changes into a black suit with a deep red button-down shirt, and shoves her feet into a pair of soft flats, knowing she won't be doing much running today. In fact, because of her hot-headed, arrogant partner, she's not allowed to leave the squadroom at all.

It's not until she grabs her gun and badge that she realizes what day it is; she feels even worse than she did five minutes ago. "Fuck," she spits, and she walks out of her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

She clomps down the hall and takes the stairs two at a time, her temper flares with every step and she curses under her breath. She's more like him than she had given herself credit for, and she isn't sure if she's proud or embarrassed by it.

Once the cold city air hits her, she closes her eyes and exhales. She's just as much to blame for the coach benching them as he is, and she feels guilty as fuck for blaming him and yelling at him. She whines and picks up some speed, trying to formulate some sort of apology so she doesn't sputter and fumble when she sees him.

Walking faster, the blurs of pink and red whiz by her, reminding her of how fully fucked up it is that she gets into a fight with the only man she's ever loved the day before fucking Valentine's Day. It's the first time in her life she's been looking forward to the stupid fucking holiday, and now she's not even sure if she still has a reason to celebrate.

Typically, she stops at the cart outside the precinct steps and buys two cups of coffee, a habit formed out of necessity. She'd much rather gulp it down too strong, too hot, than drink the stale, thick sludge in the department pot. She knows her partner has the same preference. They've taken turns buying coffee for each other, three times a day, every day, for the last three years. She pays the balding man and nods, and then stares down at the two foam cups in her hands, and she wonders if maybe this is the last time she has the honor.

Sighing again, she marches up the stone steps, she smiles politely at the uniformed rookie who opens the door for her. She bypasses the metal detectors and guards and again forgoes the elevator in favor of the much less congested stairwell, and it's a choice she immediately regrets making.

They're staring at each other.

She eyes him up and down, noticing at once that he's chosen a shirt that matches hers exactly, that he has two cups of coffee in his hands. She sees that he's got a few things clutched under his arms, and she blinks once before clearing her throat. "Morning," she says, all prior plans for a sweet surrender have taken flight.

He gives her a sideways smile, one that doesn't look happy but doesn't seem angry, either. "Yeah," he says, "Uh...I guess we...forgot whose turn it was," he laughs, shrugging. "We can always reheat them, ya know?"

She grins and her head bobs affirmatively, and then she points with her left pinky. "What's all that?"

He balks, whips his head downward, and spits out, "Oh, uh...just um…" he sighs louder than before, bends over a bit, and sets his two hot cups on the step in front of him. No one else ever takes the stairs, so he figures it's safe. He unravels the knot of things he's carrying, and he offers them to her in one sweeping flourish. "It's, uh...it's Valentine's Day."

She raises one eyebrow, settles the two coffees she's holding in the line next to his on the cinder step, and she asks, "You brought something for everyone in the unit?"

He shakes his head, biting his lip, hoping he's not about to make a complete ass out of himself. "It's, uh, it's all for you," he tells her. "Um," he clears his throat, which has suddenly been victimized by a dust storm or something because it feels like he swallowed the entire Sahara desert. "I got you a box of chocolates from _Li-Lac_, that place we went when…"

"My birthday, three years ago," she whispers, remembering how he insisted on buying her something even though he'd only known her for a week. She takes the purple, heart-shaped box from him and her smirk becomes a smile.

"These," he hands her three, long-stemmed, ombre Orchids, wrapped in pink tissue paper and tied together with a white ribbon. "One for each year we've known each other, and, uh, since it's the same number...one for each month we've been…" he pauses. His first instinct was to say _dating_ but they're beyond that, he knows, and _sleeping together_ sounds cheap. _Seeing each other_ is something they do every day, all-encompassing, and less serious than the word he's hunting for, so he finally says, "Partners outside of this hellhole." He winks at her.

She takes the flowers, closing her eyes and smelling them. "El," she breathes, remembering the story she told him on their first stake-out, the reason she likes Orchids, and it makes her heart pound because she's only mentioned it once, three years ago, and he committed it to memory.

"You remember this?" he asks as he sways a small champagne bottle in her direction, and he knows she does.

"Oh, my God," she laughs, taking the gold-foiled neck in her hands. "The Bolton case. That cruise. When we had to pretend we were…"

"Getting engaged," he says, and his eyes twinkle and glisten but she doesn't quite notice. "I meant everything I said to you that night, when we popped the champagne. The promises I made, the reasons behind them...I was being completely honest, you know that, don't you? That wasn't Kevin McBride talking to Julia Palmieri, that was all me...talking to you."

"I know, you...you told me," she says, and she rubs her nose because she refuses to cry right now. "I knew, then, but when you told me...I...I meant everything I said to you, too, you…"

"I know," he smiles and slowly blinks. He takes a breath, takes a step forward, and holds out a small, square box with a pink bow on top. "I know you want these," he teases, shaking the container. "Your favorite," he tells her, his voice wavering in pitch and octave as he sings the temptation.

"You didn't," she tilts her head and her eyes widen a bit as she takes the box. She can smell the cookies without even opening the package; the bakery has only been open for half an hour, so he must have been waiting outside for them.

"A full dozen," he tells her, and he's smug about it, feeling like he should be given the boyfriend medal of honor or something, and he says, "They're still warm."

She scrapes her teeth over her lip, the night they discovered the cookies playing like a television re-run in her mind. It had been a hellish day at work, they'd left the station at a time that was equally too early and too late to go home, knowing they'd be called back into the fray before they could even unlock the door. He'd offered to take her out for a decent cup of coffee and they'd wandered into a hole in the wall pastry shop a few blocks away from the One-Six. He'd ordered two cups of coffee and told the owner to "surprise him" with whatever cookies were left in the case. They ended up being the most delicious things either of them had ever tasted. A perfectly baked biscuit with chocolate chips, dried cherries, chopped hazelnuts, dusted with cinnamon, powdered sugar, and dipped half-way into dark chocolate. "Elliot," she whispers, her eyes turning up to meet his, and then they grow large again as she watches him hold out one last box. "What the hell is...I don't deserve…"

"It's Valentine's Day," he interrupts, "Our first...as what we are now...but the third we've spent together, and I know I fucked up. Yesterday was a fucking shit-show, and I am so sorry I dragged you down with me again, but I swear, on my life, I didn't mean…"

"I overreacted," she admits, and she places her sweet gifts onto the steps to move her hands around his wrists. "I was right there with you, I didn't stop you, I was egging you on, I guess." She shrugs. "I got angry because I was…"

"Scared," he says, "Me, too," he confesses. "We don't see eye to eye sometimes, it's part of the job, and we always work it out, but last night it felt like…" he hooks one hand around her neck, the other grips the box in his hand a bit tighter. "I wasn't just fighting with my partner over a bad interrogation, I was fighting with my girlfriend, dodging questions from Cragen, and I was such a fucking dick about it because keeping this relationship a secret is killing me." He looks into her eyes, flicks the lid of the box open without looking at it, and he says, "I don't want to hide it anymore."

Her eyes shift from his gaze to the box, her gasp echoes and her yelp bounces off the walls, and she grips his wrists tighter. "Oh, my God," she heaves.

He chuckles again, knowing he's finally made the woman he loves completely flabbergasted, and he wiggles the box. "Are you ready to tell the world, Liv?" he asks. "Put this on your finger, and we won't have to be so fucking terrified of fighting at work, I won't have to worry about some hot-shot lawyer sweeping you off your feet and you won't have to be afraid that I'm gonna curl my tail between my legs and go whimpering back to Kathy because I know you think I can't handle being with you." He shrugs. "Truth is, baby, I can't handle _not_ being with you. I didn't sleep at all last night, I can't sleep without you. It was one fucking night, because of a stupid fucking argument...I know Cragen sent you home, but Liv, I didn't...fuck, he made me stay until I cleaned up the mess I made. By the time I was done, it was so late that...I didn't want to wake you up, so I just changed my clothes and went back out to get...all of this. I spent hours walking around for everything, missing you, thinking of how to apologize, hoping you weren't mad enough to leave me...and when the sun came up, it hit me...I never want to spend another night without you, not...not like that." He inhales, he shakes the box at her again, and he whispers, "Promise me we'll never have to. Marry me, Liv." He stiffens, presses his lips together, and realizes that wasn't exactly a question. He smiles, kisses her softly, and asks this time. "Will you marry me?"

She stares at the ring, it's mocking her, taunting her. Everything about this moment goes against everything she's ever believed; it's too soon, it's too much of a commitment, it's too impulsive. With another quick breath, she realizes none of that is true, and she's never believed her 'rules' applied to Elliot Stabler. He's the only man she's ever been ready to give everything to, and she's been ready for a lot longer than the last three fucking months. "Yes," she says with no doubts or reservations, and she leans forward to kiss him before he can react.

He smiles against her lips and relaxes, folds his arms around her, and he whispers, "I love you."

"I love you," she returns, and she sniffles, not even aware until now that she's crying. "Well?" she laughs, and she holds out her shaking left hand.

He laughs, too, wiping his own watering eyes, and he slips the ring onto her finger. He helps her pick up her gifts and the four lukewarm cups of coffee, and he knows that once they get upstairs he'll finally have to answer the questions Cragen has been asking all night. He doesn't mind, because now, the answers are sure and solid, and ones he can't wait to speak into existence. "Liv?"

She blinks her big, brown eyes at him, her smile as serene and pure as he's ever seen.

He kisses her again, just as he pushes into the door with his elbow and his hip. "Happy Valentine's Day."

**A/N: Lastly...a slow, sweet night, that's almost interrupted...but why?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: When you find a love so intense and so certain, you do everything you can to keep it. **

_**What about love? I only wanna share it with you. - Heart**_

**DISCLAIMER: Characters and background information are the sole property of DICK WOLF. The content of this story is the sole property of Tstabler©**

The way his lips move over her skin sets her entire body on fire. Tingles and pin-pricks course through her system and when she feels it in the pit of her stomach, the truth becomes clear. "El," she breathes, her heart thumps harder against her chest as she presses her palms into his chest, the fabric of his polo shirt feels like lava under her touch. "El, baby, wait…"

He backs up immediately, rests his hands on her hips and looks at her, his red lips and heated skin are vibrating. "What? What'd I do? What happened?"

She shakes her head and takes a breath. "Nothing, it's not…" she smiles and inhales again, "Trust me, you are doing all the right things, here," she sees him smirk and he moves to kiss her again. She holds up a hand. "I need to tell you something," she whispers.

He stops breathing. He stops moving. He feels like he's dying. "Oh, no," his grip on her tightens.

"God, no, El, it's...it's nothing…" she shifts and drops her hands to his knees. "I was just...I realized, this is intense. Us. We are. And I just have to tell you something before I fuck everything up." She licks her lips and breathes again. "In the last four years, you've watched me go through boyfriends like I go through shoes."

"I like your shoes more than I liked any of your boyfriends," he laughs. "I'm the last one, right? You're mine. For life."

She smirks at him as she nods and runs her hands up his thighs. "My point," she lifts one shoulder and swallows her fear and her pride. "When it got serious...for them...I ran. It was never serious for me, and I couldn't let them think it was, ya know? With you...El, I am terrified, and I'm not running." She rubs her lips together. "I am fighting the fear with everything I have, because for the first time in my life...I'm all in, I just don't want to get…"

"You know…" he stops himself, he smiles. "I promise you, just like I did four years ago, that I will never hurt you, I will never give you a reason to doubt me, and I will never...ever...stop loving you the way that I have...for so damn long." He kisses her again, and he whispers something against her lips.

His words send shivers down her spine and she says, "Always, El. I promise." She sniffles, on the verge of tears. "That's what I wanted to...why I stopped you. I had to tell you, I needed you to know that I'm not going anywhere. I swear."

He squints. "You heard me," he realizes. "Honey...when I told Fin I was worried about you leaving me…" he brushes her hair back, kisses her forehead, and he moans softly. "Baby, I meant at work." He watches her tilt her head, he can tell she's confused. "Tucker, uh...did he call you?"

She shakes her head. "No, why?"

He exhales and nuzzles her nose with his, kisses her again, drags his lips and tongue over the thin skin of her neck as his fingers slip under her shirt, he flattens his hand over her stomach and looks into her eyes again. "He's gonna, and when he does...he's gonna offer you…"

"Oh, El," she whispers, "I already told Monahan I didn't want the job," she explains, knowing what he's getting at. "Why would you even think…"

"Because it's an incredible opportunity," he interrupts, and he stops, softening his voice and the expression on his face. "You'd have to be crazy to pass that up."

"I guess I'm crazy, then," she laughs, dragging her nails up and down his neck. She can feel him move again, she's purposely reigniting the flames and ignoring what he's said, because there's nowhere else she'd rather be than by his side, no matter how much bigger the paycheck would be.

He rolls his neck and pulls her shirt up and over her head, he begins to growl at the way her skin flushes when it meets the cool air in the room. He throws her shirt over his head and bends to nip and lick at the tops of her breasts. Between kisses he says, "I wouldn't be mad at you, if you wanted the job, baby, I would…"

"Not ready," she confesses on a soft moan, stopping his speaking. Her nails drag along his scalp. "Need to be with you." Her head drops back when she feels his mouth wrap around a silk-covered nipple, and she gasps, wondering how he managed to get his hand down her pants without her noticing.

His fingers weave between her folds and with a short grunt, he pushes them into her. "Thank God," he pants, and his free hand starts to tug on his twists his wrist and listens to the heavenly keening emanating from her. She's his; she's promised him that.

She skims her hands down to the hem of his polo and she pulls roughly, making him growl a bit louder. She throws the shirt and it lands on the floor somewhere next to hers.

He unhooks her bra and peels away her pants, almost blowing his gasket when he sees that she isn't wearing any underwear. "Fuck," he sighs, tossing away the bundle of clothes in his hands, and he says, "Happy Valentine's Day," with a smirk and wink.

She winks right back at him, grabs him around the neck, and pulls her to him for a fiery kiss. She doesn't know what sort of saint she was in a past life, she must've been one to deserve this. He'd already done everything he could, so much more than she'd expected because she'd honestly expected nothing. He'd awakened her with breakfast in bed, three hours before the alarm would go off. He'd made love to her until the sun came up, and once they'd gotten the kids out of the house, he'd given her the most beautiful pair of earrings she'd ever seen. He'd driven her to work and had sung cheesy love songs to her from behind the wheel. He'd bought her coffee and a cupcake on their way into their building, and he'd been an absolute gentleman for the rest of the day. He'd taken her to a candlelit dinner as soon as their shift was done, and he'd made sure the kids would stay at their mother's for the night so he could do exactly what he was doing now: take her in every room in the house, starting with the middle of the living room.

It's their first Valentine's Day as something more than illicit lovers, as something more permanent and moral, but it's not any more or less important than any other night they've spent together.

He makes her breakfast every day. They make love more than once, every day, every night, because they're making up for lost time and they can't get enough. He buys her presents for no reason at all, whenever he can, because he feels it's his job to spoil her like no one else ever has, ever will. They buy each other coffee and cupcakes or donuts or cookies or muffins because they're cops and it comes with the territory. He treats her to dinner once a week, she treats him to dinner, too, because they're attempting to "date" in efforts to make up for not "dating" at all. The kids have to stay with their mother at least twice a month, and it's their ritualistic right to take advantage of the time alone.

It's nothing new, but Goddamn, it's a fucking perfect Valentine's Day nonetheless.

He presses into her, flattening her out on the couch, moaning as her lips kiss parts of his neck,shoulders, and chest. "Liv," he whispers, and he nudges her thighs apart with his knee. "Tell me what you…"

"You know exactly what I want," she interrupts, and she arches her back to prod him into action. "You always know."

He nods, biting his lip, and he thrusts once, sheathing himself inside of her completely. The guttural cry of her name he gives as he throws his head back fills the entire room. When his head drops forward, he looks at her and he knows there is no fucking feeling like this, and no one but him is ever going to fucking experience it. "I love you," he says, and he starts to slowly thrust and rock, hooking his arms under her knees.

Her head drops back into the arm of the couch as he hits a spot that makes her head spin. She can't scream, though, God, she fucking wants to, so she scratches his back hard and deep. "Elliot," she moans, meeting his eyes again.

He bends his head as he thrusts slowly, deeply, powerfully, and he kisses her softly. "I love you."

She says it back, her lips moving against hers, and she shakes a bit when the first of what will certainly be many blissful earthquakes rumbles through her body.

"How much?" His question comes out on a gravel path of pure emotion.

"More than anything," she cries, feeling her body burn and uncontrollably tremble as she cums beneath him.

He slows his thrusting even more, hits as deep as he possibly can, and he whispers with his lips moving against hers, "Enough to marry me?"

She freezes; her body tenses so tightly that he can't pull out, and she hears him curse but he doesn't look away from her stunned eyes. She smiles, loops her arms around his neck, kisses him, and says, "If you're asking me that question, you know the answer. You wouldn't ask if you weren't sure I'd say…"

"Yes," he smirks and he starts moving again, a new motivation behind his actions. He laughs as he kisses her again and he tries to remember what drawer he put the ring in, the last gift she's getting tonight. "You are saying yes, aren't you?" He chuckles as he gives a forceful thrust of his hips, making her moan and clench and cum again.

She nods. "God, yes, baby." She kisses him as she curls around him, and she smiles against his lips. He's found a way to make today incredibly special after all.

**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!**


End file.
